


Four Times Don Eppes Dodged a Bullet (and one time he didn't)

by knotted_rose



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Angst, Drabble Sequence, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knotted_rose/pseuds/knotted_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five drabbles of the times Don dodged a metaphoric bullet (and the one time he didn't.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Don Eppes Dodged a Bullet (and one time he didn't)

"It isn't mine."

Don may fuck around, but he was _careful._ No diseases or permanent reminders of a night meant to help him forget everything.

"I counted the days, and counted and counted--"

"Look, Trisha--"

"Teresa."

"I work for the FBI. You know how easy it is for me to get a paternity test?"

At that she crumbled. Don had never figured out how to be kind but firm, and so said nothing as his coffee cooled and her hopes died.

After she left he remained, glad he'd dodged that one, never admitting he was sad as well.

#

 

"Arizona." The word came out as dry as the desert there. It was the first word Coop had spoken since Don had told him.

"It's a huge promotion," Don explained. "And it isn't just a desk job. There will be field work too."

But Don's words spattered on ground too desiccated to soak them in.

That night, Coop fucked Don gently, with strokes that spoke of love, fingers etching the caring words that Coop would never use. Words that Don needed, but was too stubborn to say first.

So he left in search of that verbal rain of care.

#

 

The perp stared at Don, not speaking through the grilling, as if he didn't hear it. He interrupted Megan in the middle of a sentence.

"I know you."

"Oh yeah? From where?" Don challenged.

The perp named an infamous gay bar. One that Don had not been to, actually.

When Don denied it, the perp was insistent. Don laughed it off, glad he could answer truthfully with Megan there.

"It's okay if you were there," she told him later.

Don forced a grin. "But I wasn't."

Megan nodded and dropped it.

Don swore silently to never go to another LA club.

#

 

Charlie was a guy. A guy who got maudlin when he got drunk. And touchy.

So why was it Don's job to take care of him? Where the hell was Amita?

Charlie clung to Don when he tried to leave, as he had when he'd been a boy gripped by nightmares.

Don's hands fell into automatic soothing patterns, and he murmured, "I'm right here, never going away."

"Never again?" Charlie asked, hopeful and lost.

"Never."

In the morning they both ignored the kiss Charlie had given Don after that: Don because he could, and Don assumed Charlie just didn't remember.

#

 

"You're dead."

"No, buddy, I'm right here."

"Statistically speaking, you're dead. Several times over, in fact."

"Charlie--" Don winced when he raised his wounded arm. He wasn't quick enough to catch Charlie as he paced another circle around Don's hospital bed. "Would you come here?"

Glaring, Charlie approached. He softened at the sight of Don's outstretched arm, folding himself under it.

"Not gonna die," Don promised. "Never going to leave you."

"Never?" Charlie asked, almost smiling.

"Never."

This time, Don didn't dodge the kiss, the complications, or the words of tenderness that followed. He let the bullet strike home.


End file.
